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The Black Bar, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 43. Mark Is Wanted On Deck |
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_ Chapter Forty Three. Mark Is Wanted On Deck "Here, Mark, old chap, the skipper wants you on the quarter-deck," said Bob Howlett some weeks later. "Wants me?" cried Mark, clapping his hand to his head. "Yes." "Why, I heard the men piped up, and everybody's there." "Yes, all of 'em. Russell's there too, and Whitney." "Whitney?" "Yes, I think the skipper's going to have your bare head exhibited, and the doctor's to give the men a lecture on the new growth of hair on the human skull." "Get out; he doesn't want me, Bob. I shall be obliged to give you that licking." "No gammon, really. You are to come at once." "Is this serious?" "Yes: honour." "But--oh, Bob, I'm such a guy." "You are, my boy; but we'll forgive you. Come on." Mark hurriedly covered as much of his disfigurement as he could with his cap, and followed his messmate on deck, where, to his horror, he found officers and men all drawn up, with the shabby port and town of Goldby glorified by the setting sun, and all beneath the quarter-deck awning bathed in a golden glow. One of the first objects upon which his eyes lit was the young lieutenant, looking weak and pale, as he sat there in uniform for the first time during many days. Tom Fillot and the rest of the prize crew were in front, and as Mark shrinkingly marched up to where the captain was waiting, Mr Russell gave him a friendly smile, and the first lieutenant one of his frowning nods. Mark felt miserable, for, as Bob kindly told him afterwards, he looked just like an escaped lunatic, who had jumped out of a strait waistcoat into a middy's uniform. He felt as if the men were smiling in derision at his aspect, especially Tom Fillot and Dance, who were grinning, while Soup and Taters displayed nearly every one of their magnificent white teeth. There was a singing in his ears too, and a sensation of giddiness; and when Mr Whitney nodded and looked hard at him, the midshipman half thought that Bob Howlett's words were right, and that the doctor was really going to lecture upon his bald head. Then the captain spoke, amidst the most profound silence, and Mark felt as if he were a culprit, and as ready to hang his head; but somehow he drew a deep breath and held himself up stiffly, and his eyes flashed defiance, as he said to himself, "Let them laugh if they like. I did my duty." "Glad to see you on deck again, Mr Vandean," said the captain, shaking hands, and speaking in his clear, penetrating tones. "I know that you have felt a little shrinking naturally, sir, but no British sailor need be ashamed of scars received in an honourable service." "Thank you, sir," murmured Mark, in a choking voice, and his eyes looked his gratitude. "I sent for you, Mr Vandean, because I felt that you ought to hear an announcement I have to make to the whole crew of her Majesty's sloop _Nautilus_." He paused for a moment or two, and whispered to Mr Staples, who was close behind him. Then he nodded, and went on: "The two schooners so gallantly taken, lost, and retaken by the brave little prize crew I sent on board, have been condemned and sold. They are beautiful little well-formed vessels, and have made a splendid price.--Silence!" There had been a low murmur, which was instantly checked. "Then for head money on one hundred and eighty-seven poor black fellow-creatures rescued from what to them were floating hells, there will also be a handsome sum to add, and make a capital distribution of prize-money amongst the smartest crew a captain in Her Majesty's service could wish to command." Here there was an attempt at a cheer, but the captain held up his hand. "I have a few more words to say, and they are these. We all owe our thanks to those officers and men who have turned what had so far been a barren time into one rich in action. There is not a man among us who would not gladly have done his duty as well; and no doubt--it shall not be my fault if they do not--others will have plenty of opportunities for distinguishing themselves. But I feel that we ought all to publicly thank these officers and men for the brave fight they made on our behalf. You will be glad to hear that I have strongly recommended my gallant friend Mr Russell for promotion, which he has won by his brave efforts and his sufferings in our great humane fight to wipe away the sinister black bar from the world's shield of civilisation. Stop, my lads; you shall cheer directly. Dance, Fillot, and Bannock stand next for promotion, and I thank them publicly for setting so brave an example with their messmates, of patient self-denial, obedience, and sterling British manly pluck in a good cause." Another murmur ran along the ranks, and Mark saw that Tom Fillot was hanging his head and colouring like a schoolboy, while Dance could not stand still. Almost at the same moment Mark caught Bob Howlett's eyes, which twinkled with mischief and seemed to say, "Your turn now." "One more word," said the captain, "and I have done." He paused, and in the intense, painful silence the glowing quarter-deck, with its many faces, seemed to swim round Mark Vandean. "There is one whom I have not named," said the captain--"Mr Vandean." Here, unchecked, there was a tremendous cheer, in which the officers joined, and the captain smiled, while now Mark's head did hang a little, and he trembled. Then, as there was silence once more, the captain turned to him. "Mr Vandean," he said, "I thank you--we all thank you for what you have done. I name you, of course, in my despatch, but it is folly to talk to you of promotion for years to come. That is certain, however, if you go on in the course you have followed since you joined my ship. I tell you, sir, that it is such lads as you who have made the words British Boy admired--I may say honoured--wherever our country's name is known. Mark Vandean, I am proud of you, and some day I feel that your country will be as proud--proud as we all are--proud as the father and mother at home will be when they know everything about their gallant son. God bless you, my boy! A British captain should be like a father to the lads whom he commands. Heaven knows I feel so toward you." He stopped, with his hand on Mark's shoulder, and the first lieutenant stepped forward, cap in hand, to wave it wildly. "Now, my lads," he shouted, "for Lieutenant Russell and Mr Vandean: cheer!" They did. "One more for our captain!" The voices rang out again and again, and yet again. And made the water ripple round the ship, Bob Howlett afterwards declared. But five minutes after, when he was down with Mark in the middies' berth, while the hero of the evening sat hot and quivering in every nerve, Bob uttered a contemptuous snort. "Oh!" he cried, "what a jolly shame!" Mark stared. "You do get all the crumb, old chap. All that fuss over a fellow with a head of hair like yours!" Then, as he saw the pained look in his messmate's countenance, the tears rose in his eyes, and he gulped out,-- "Only my gammon, old chap. I'm as proud of you as any of 'em, and I only wish now that we were two great gals." "Why?" cried Mark, wonderingly, as he caught the hands extended to him by his friend. "Because then I could hug you. But I can't: it would be so Frenchy." "Fists'll do," said Mark, gripping Bob's fingers with all his might. "Yes, and we're to stick to each other always." "Always." "Through thick and thin." "Through thick and thin." "Chums to the end." "To the very end, Bob." "Yah!" roared the latter, angrily, as he picked up a bread tray to throw at a head he had seen through his dim eyes watching them intently, "How dare you sneak in, sir to watch what's going on? Why, I thought it was one of the men. Come here and stand on your head, ugly. You can't tell tales of how stupid and choky I've been." The chimpanzee came forward out of the semi-darkness, and squatted down to have its ears pulled; while, as soon as he grew more calm, and his heart beat regularly once again, Mark sat down to pen a long, long letter to that best of places--his far-off home. [THE END] _ |
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